


Episode 7: Return of The Sith (for lack of a better title)

by Jason01960



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure, Character Development, Continuation, Fantasy, Plot Twists
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:34:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24581632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jason01960/pseuds/Jason01960
Summary: STAR WARSTwo years after the fall of the Empire, Luke Skywalker finds a force sensitive candidate to carry on the Jedi way. The young Padawan knows nothing of the dark side or of the Jedi’s history as she is trained on a remote planet on the outer rim.Little to the fragile New Republic’s knowledge, a new Sith order is on the rise. While Luke trains the youngling, a deadly bounty hunter is enlisted to hunt them both down...





	Episode 7: Return of The Sith (for lack of a better title)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, reader.
> 
> I'm sure there are some people out there who didn't really like the sequels that thought of different ways they could have gone better. This one is my own version of how it could have gone. I'm trying to manage keeping the continuation of the Original Trilogy without it getting in the way of an original story I'm trying to tell and vice versa. It's difficult avoiding the same mistakes Disney made, to say the least, and I'm not saying that this is better than that (it's probably not), but if you weren't too satisfied with how they treated the OT characters or if you thought their new ones were pretty bland, give this a read.
> 
> Also, in case you don't know already, there ARE books in Legends that were written in the 90's called the "Thrawn Trilogy" that were supposed to be direct sequels to the OT. So if you don't like what I've written and you don't like the Disney stuff, check those out.
> 
> P.S: Write in the comments how YOUR OWN version of the sequel trilogy would go. I'm curious.

Chapter 1

Blasvo was heading for Coruscant, and he was in no mood for set-backs. There was a fat paycheck waiting for him if he pulled this off, one that would finally let him retire. Retirement was a far off dream in his younger years, but now it was what he expected. Soon he could stop surviving and start living for a change. Two targets to bring in. If he could bring them in alive, that was all the better.

There would be competition, he was sure. When the pay is five-hundred-thousand credits, there’s bound to be a few to try their luck at it. But when Blasvo’s playing, you might as well forget about it, because the only bounty hunter better than him is Boba Fett. Was Boba Fett. Now that the Mandalorian has disappeared off the face of the galaxy, Blasvo was taking the spotlight. When the big wigs wanted a job done, it was his name that came up. His reliability was magic.

He signalled to the hangar over the short distance radio. They told him the fee, twenty republic credits, and gave him permission to dock. He lowered the landing gear, put the ship on the ground, extended the ramp, and powered down. All of the blinking lights on the control panel stopped illuminating the room as he exited the cockpit.

Arnold was trying to get something to work in the common room, poking at wires on a small knee-high platform in front of a bench.

“What are you doing?” Blasvo asked.

Arnold flinched in surprise at his tone, “It’s chess. I’m seeing if I can’t get it to work.”

“Don’t mess up anything we need.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Arnold said, “it’s on an entirely separate circuit.”

Blasvo went to grab his jacket off the nearby rack, “Put the panel back on that thing. Get ready to go.”

Arnold began to fix the metal panel back into place. “Yes, right away. But, sir, aren’t you unwelcomed here? This is republic territory, after all. Neo-republic”

“I doubt there’ll be much law enforcement where Jaggo is. I have a feeling I’ll be fine.”

Arnold smiled cheerfully, “Very good, sir, but just in case…” he handed him a respirator mask, “I suggest you wear this. It’s very common on the lower levels. Bad air, and all.”

Blasvo examined the thing with distaste. It was big and clunky, attention grabbing. He eyed Arnold with a suspicious look. “I’m not wearing this.”

“You’ll fit right in, trust me.”

Blasvo tied the mask around his head. The device was loud, obscured his vision, and restrained his head movement.

“No. Let’s go,” said Blasvo, dropping the device over the chess table.

“If you say so.” Arnold said, grabbing his coat. “Would you mind telling me the details of the job now? I’m anxious to learn what it is we are --erm-- doing.”

“I’ll tell you after we talk to Jaggo. First we find a bus.” Blasvo was halfway down the ramp when Arnold started to follow. He paid the fee at the station, and they went to find a speeder.

Busses that went to the lower levels were proving to be obsolete. So many were coming in and out so quickly, but none of the speeders went below level 300. Which, as far as Arnold was concerned, made sense. It was where the criminal population of the planet congregated, and any well meaning citizen wouldn’t give the lower levels a second thought.

“Why can’t we find a bus to get to 613?” Blasvo asked Arnold through gritted teeth.

Arnold rubbed his hands and looked around the speeder station. It was as crowded as a spaceport and as busy as one, too. Many types of crafts of different designs from the minimalist, colorless, sleek design of the SK-41, to the bright and vibrant DSL-144 populated the area. Coruscant’s ships were not lacking in variety.

“Ah, well, nobody really wants to go there,” he said, distracted by the sight of a beautiful UL-310.

“So what now?”

Arnold turned to Blasvo and shrugged, “We keep looking.”

“Until the sun goes down or until we starve?”

“Starve, probably.”

“All I want is a speeder to get us down. Any speeder. It doesn’t have to be a bus.”

Arnold clasped his hands together, “I wish you would have told me that earlier. It’s much easier to rent a speeder here. Albeit much more expensive.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that? Money won’t be a problem for us very soon.”

“Because I know how much you hate expensive things.”

Blasvo rented a speeder. The cheapest speeder. Arnold was not a favor of the yellow, disproportionate design of the DSL-144, but complied without much fuss. Blasvo did not care. It would get him down to level 613, and he was content. The price of the speeder stoked a few grumbles from him, however. The five credit bus fare was a pittance compared to the one hundred credits a day for this piece of junk. Nonetheless, after some haggling they were on their way to 613.

The speeder slowly floated down the portal: a massive ventilation hole in the ground, showing each level as they made their descent. The passage was pitch dark with a few glowing lights to guide them. Level 1… level 2… level 3… it was going to be a long ride.

“Sir,” Arnold said, “I think now would be the perfect time for you to tell me what it is we are doing here.”

“In my line of work, the only place where you’re safe to talk is on your ship.”

“Could you at least give me a hint as to who it is?” Arnold pleaded.

“No.”

“Ah, I see. Then could you tell me something about this Jaggo?”

“He’s big, friendly, and you can’t trust him.”

“Never trust friendly people.” Arnold smiled.

“Never trust anyone, I say.”

“You trust me, don’t you?”

“No. Why do you think I lock the room to my cabin every night?”

“Well, I trust you.”

“Then you’re an idiot.”

During their descent, Arnold educated Blasvo on the Clone Wars, going into detail with politics. As soon as Arnold said something about trade federations, Blasvo tuned out. He would rather hear about the war heroes and battles, and would much rather continue to level 613 in silence, but Arnold droned on regardless, oblivious.

When Arnold was in the middle of talking about Sheev Palpatine’s takeover, Blasvo wondered if he knew anything useful.

“What can you tell me about Luke Skywalker?” he asked.

“Not much. He’s a myth; probably one made up by Rebellion leaders to increase morale. It’s interesting to think about, though. Leaves a few questions such as who really blew up the Death Star?”

“You don’t think he’s real?”

“I doubt it. But if he is, he’s welcome to surprise me. He’d be the last known Jedi knight, and I’ve always wanted to meet one.”

“Jedi… I knew a few.”

“Oh,” Arnold said, grinning, “I knew that, sir.”

The landing space was scarce of speeders and plentiful of suspicious looking people. Blasvo was glad he didn’t bring his ship down here; some punks would have taken it apart and sold the pieces. Good thing this one is a rental, he thought.

Arnold felt inside his pocket for his zapper. He never went into a densely populated area without it.

“I do hope Jaggo’s bar is not reflective of this mess,” Arnold commented.

“He has finer tastes. If I know him, he’s running the fanciest joint in this dump. Which,” Blasvo said as he looked around, “isn’t saying much.”

They were dressed like peasants by the upper level standards. On a planet like Tatooine, where shabbiness was the norm, they would have fit right in. The streets of Coruscant’s 613th level, however, made them look like fashion models. People appeared to be either sick, dying, or dead. They propped themselves against heaps of garbage and walls, wore dirty rags, and emitted an aroma incomparable to any other smell. Arnold gripped his zapper tight in his pocket, ready to fire it off at a moment’s notice.

Blasvo could tell from the living conditions that no one could afford any sort of weapons other than a brick. They could gang up on him, but he was trained for that sort of thing. Arnold, on the other hand, didn’t even know how to turn the safety off on his zapper.

“Why didn’t I stay on the ship?” Arnold whined.

“You have a bad feeling about this?” Blasvo asked.

“I have a feeling, and it’s certainly not a good one. He said his place was just up the street, didn’t he?”

“Yeah. Turn a corner and we’re there, if I remember the directions right.”

Arnold shuddered at the idea of being here any longer than he had to.

Upon turning the corner, they saw purple, neon lights lacing a building in the distance. It was the only other light that didn’t come from the portals. The people going in and out were clean and well dressed. It looked like another world.

“Is this better?” Blasvo asked, arms outstretched.

“Not by much.”

A line of people patiently waited outside the double doors for the bouncer to let them in or send them off. Most people got in, but a few weren’t so lucky. Arnold wondered why people would wait for hours to get into a place with only a chance to get in, then he remembered what the rest of level 613 looked like.

The two pushed their way to the front. Blasvo doing most of the work, Arnold following closely behind. There were angry shouts, but they receded into the midst of the crowd. The bouncer was not at all pleased with their lack of manners.

He was a Besalisk: a big, green, four armed species that most people would want to stay on the good side of. His scowl said anything but ‘good side’.

Two of his arms pointed in the direction they came, “Backa the line,” he said.

Blasvo removed his respirator. “I’m a friend of Jaggo’s.”

The Besalisk scrutinized his face. “Are you Blasvo?”

“The one and only.”

“Alright, in you go.” He pushed him in with one hand.

Arnold followed after him, but was stopped by one of his other hands.

“I don’t know about you,” he growled.

“He’s with me,” Blasvo said.

Arnold’s legs froze in place. All he could hope for was that the behemoth would decide that he was worth letting in.

The bouncer thought about it for a moment then said, “Fine, sure, yeah. Go,” and shoved him in.

Arnold could not figure out for the life of him how people enjoyed themselves in these sorts of places. The disorienting strobe lights made it difficult to move without bumping into someone or tripping over your own feet, and the unmelodic music pierced eardrums like a knife. What was even more confusing was the presence of Coruscant’s high society. Wealthy people, some he knew by name as small time politicians as well as a few people that were simply famous for being rich. People Arnold couldn’t stand.

“Jaggo better be in a quieter place!” Arnold said.

“I can’t hear you,” Blasvo shouted, “just follow me!”

“What?!”

Arnold did his best to keep up with Blasvo, which wasn’t enough. He lost him behind a Rodian too big for his own good staggering in front of him. At the point he almost gave up hope, he saw Blasvo head into a doorway covered with a purple curtain. On the other side of it was another door, guarded by yet another Besalisk.

Arnold kept his shoulders back and approached the guard.

“Hello,” he said politely, “may I see Jaggo?”

“Get lost. He’s in a meeting.”

Arnold smiled politely. “I’m a good friend of the man he is meeting.”

“Sure you are.” The guard mocked his smile. “Scram.”

Jaggo crossed his upper two arms, cupped the lower two on the table, and smiled with jagged, yellow teeth.

Blasvo was confident in his ability to tell what someone was thinking from subtle body cues. Jaggo was an exception. He could smile and frown at the same time. He could make a man comfortable and send chills down his spine. Not even his mother knew what to think of him.

“What can I do for you, my friend?” Jaggo said in his course, baritone voice.

“We’re not friends. Friends don’t sell each other out.”

“Hey,” he put his upper hands over his heart, “I’m sorry about that, truly. But you know I’ve got to serve anyone who asks. Don’t want a bad reputation.”

“Yeah, you and your reputation. I just need you to find one guy.”

Jaggo chuckled. “You say that like it’s easy. It’s harder to find one person, but I’ll cut you a deal. I know money’s hard to come by in these strange times. Who is it?”

Blasvo reached into his jacket and produced a holoprojector. On it was the three-dimensional image of a young man with short, wavy hair and dark clothes.

“Who is he?”

Blasvo shrugged. “Some smuggler.”

Jaggo rubbed his chin. “Don’t look like one. Much too clean, stands up too straight. Looks more like a political figure.”

“If he was anyone important to you, you’d know.”

“True, true,” Jaggo conceded. “But maybe he’s important to you, eh?”

“It’s just another job. All I need you to do is find him. Oh-- and you’re doing this as a favor.”

For once, Jaggo showed a genuine emotion; disdain. “I don’t do favors, I’ve got a business to run.”

Blasvo leaned forward over the table. “You’re lucky I didn’t come back here and take your goddamn head off after what you did. Believe me, I’d like to.” One of the Besalisk guards, none too pleased with what he was saying, started moving in.

Jaggo stopped him with a hand, then said softly, “and you’re lucky I didn’t tell the imperials who you really are, what you really are. I could have-- real easy. There was a fat pile of cash waiting for me if I did, but I didn’t. Now you show me some respect, or you can get out of my business.”

Blasvo slowly reclined back into his seat.

“How did you figure out?”

“Same way I figure out everything: connections.”

Blasvo nodded. “Name your price. For the smuggler.”

“Hm, yes, let’s see,” Jaggo said, rubbing his hands, “three-thousand.”

“Half of that.”

“Two-thousand.”

“Do one-thousand five-hundred, and I’ll pay on the spot.”

“Deal.” Jaggo stood up and shook Blasvo’s hand. “Well, that was painless, wasn’t it?”

Blasvo handed him the credits and the holoprojector, and he pocketed them.

“I’ll have him by next week,” Jaggo said.

“Until then,” Blasvo said, leaving the room. He’d have to keep an eye on Jaggo, he was certainly keeping an eye on him. How did he know? ‘Connections’. Connections with who? Not even Arnold knew why the imperials wanted him so bad; he thought it was because he was a bounty hunter. He was clueless. As a matter of fact, the Empire loved to enlist bounty hunters on politically sensitive jobs. But the type of person Blasvo is-- was, was a threat to the Empire.

Upon walking through the velvet curtain, he was met with the sight of a very irritated Arnold.

“Sir…” he said, “I do not want to spend another second in this dreadful place.”

“Have you been standing there this whole time?” Blasvo asked.

“Yes.”

“You could have had a little fun.”

“I recall you saying once that having fun is detrimental to a fulfilling life, or something of the sort.”

“For me, yeah. I’m a bounty hunter with a target on the back of my head. The day I risk it all is the day I don’t have any fun ever again.”

“Did the meeting go over well?”

“Not as well as I wanted, but yeah, we should be fine.”

“Splendid. Now let’s make haste.”

This time Arnold led the way. They made it out of the club in great time.

“Now can you tell me who it is we’re after?” Arnold asked.

“On the ship.”

Arnold sighed and they continued on in silence.


End file.
